


The likes of you

by Castielific



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotionally Repressed Dean Winchester, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel (Supernatural), Jealous Dean Winchester, Jealousy, M/M, Oblivious Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23972662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castielific/pseuds/Castielific
Summary: Dean accidentally tells Cas he likes him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 22
Kudos: 249





	The likes of you

“ Call me if you remember anything ," Dean says, handing his card to the pretty red head that he and Cas are interrogating. “Or if you feel like getting a drink tonight," he adds with a charming smile and a quick wink.

“You’re about as charming as the A in DNA," the woman answers, before going back to her work station.

As soon as they’re outside, Dean starts prancing.

“Still got it," he announces proudly, snapping his fingers with a bounce in his step.

“I’m not sure that was a flirtation,” Cas answers, confused.

“Yeah? Since when are you an expert on those?”

“I’m not," Cas admits. “But I do know that the A in DNA means acid. Which is not sweet at all.” the ex-angel explains.

Dean gapes, offended.

“In fact,” Cas continues. “I think it might have been what you may call a burn. Which is quite humorous. She burnt you with an acid pun,” Cas continues, laughing to himself.

“Hey guys, how is it?" Sam asks, joining them in the parking lot.

“Cas is getting a sense of humor and I don’t like it,” Dean says, not sulking at all. Nope.

“Cas has always been funny.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel says with a nod, honored. “I always knew you were a man of great taste,” he compliments.

“Which I’m obviously not since I like you,” Dean grumbles to himself, searching for the Impala’s keys in his pocket.

“You what?” Sam says, baffled.

Castiel just squints his eyes and inclines his head, observing Dean as the man blushes.

“Nothing. Let’s go,” he orders as he gets into the car.

“Did you just say you like Cas?” Sam insists, mocking as he gets into the passenger side.

“No. Shut up. Did you get anything from the security camera?” Dean says, getting pissed.

While Sam gets into a report of what he’s discovered, Dean sends a quick look into the rear-view mirror, thankful but a little suspicious that Cas isn’t saying anything. The ex-angel is sitting silently in the backseat, looking out the window with a little frown. Dean doesn’t like that frown. It means Cas is thinking hard about something. Oh crap, he’s probably thinking about what Dean just said about liking him.

“Can we have pancakes for lunch or is it not socially appropriate?” Cas suddenly asks, thoughtful.

Or not. Maybe he hasn’t even heard Dean. Or doesn’t care. Yeah, it’s probably that. Why would he, right? He probably has tons of more important stuff to think about than Dean and his blurb. Like pancakes for lunch.

“We’re getting burgers.” Dean answers, maybe a little too harshly.

*****

They get back to the bunker the next day, a little bruised but with another monster dead. Castiel is limping a little from a bad fall on his hip, and his lip is about twice the size it should be on the left side. He looks miserable and keeps reopening the cut on his mouth by nibbling and poking at it, despite Dean telling him to cut it out.

It’s unsettling to see him like this, with cuts and bruises that don’t disappear in the blink of an eye. Cas has been living with them in the bunker for three months now. He’s still adjusting to being human, while Dean is still adjusting to Cas not disappearing for days or weeks at a time. He’s surprised by how much he likes it. How much stress has actually evaporated now that he knows where Cas is at all times, that he’s close and safe and not defying or pissing off the whole damn Host of Heaven. Hell, they don’t even have to worry about Heaven or angels anymore, now that they’ve locked up Heaven. Which is fine by Dean, as long as he gets to keep his favorite angel. The only one he really likes, to be honest. He’ll always be grateful that Cas chose to stay here, at the cost of his Grace, rather than go back to Heaven. All in all, he seems to be adjusting really well to being human.

Cas moans in pain. Dean looks at him just in time to see a canine bites into the cut, making it bleed again.

“Quit it,” he reprimands.

Cas makes as if he didn’t hear him, a little too obvious in his ignorance. Dean rolls his eyes.

“It won’t heal if you keep poking at it,” Dean reminds him.

He takes a sip of his beer and changes the channel, reclining a little more in his seat. This. This is what he’s always wished for. Just watching tv with his best friend like two normal dudes, with his little brother well and nearby, probably doing some nerdy stuff instead of watching tv like a normal human being. He never thought he would get to have that. Yet here they are.

They’ve even started watching some shows together, have their own kind of movie night in which Cas makes confused faces at Doctor Sexy MD, and corrects the science of it out loud until Dean starts throwing popcorn at him to make him shut up. It doesn’t really work, all he gets is a cranky ex-angel covered in popcorn, but it’s very entertaining. Sam sometimes joins them, but he tends to argue the science with Castiel, and Dean just doesn’t have enough popcorn to shut them both up, so he chooses lighter shows when Sam is in the room, like The Office, or Brooklyn Nine Nine. It feels good to laugh together. It feels like family.

“Dean, would you consider yourself as monogamous?” Cas asks seriously, brows furrowed.

Dean is so surprised by the question that he actually gets whiplash from turning his head so fast toward Cas. What the hell was that for? It doesn’t sound like a conversation he wants to have. Not at all.

“Huh. Why?”

“I was thinking back to what you said yesterday. I’m confused about the meaning of it,” Cas explains, matter of fact.

Yeah, that sounds exactly like the conversation he was hoping to avoid after his blurting out fiasco.

Dean gulps down the rest of his beer to give himself some time to find an appropriate answer. He feels like he might need another one. Oh, great, an excuse to get out of here. Perfect.

“I’m getting another beer, you want one?” Dean asks, getting up and already heading for the door.

He cringes when he hears Cas following him.

“So, are you?” Cas insists, stopping in the middle of the kitchen while Dean hides in the fridge.

“Yeah. Sure,” Dean mumbles, rummaging in the fridge, voluntarily clinking the beers together, hoping that he’ll have an excuse for not hearing what may come next.

“Then why did you flirt with that woman if you like me?”

Dean can feel his breath literally get caught in his throat. He suddenly can’t breathe, it’s like his whole throat closed up, and oh my god is he having an actual allergic reaction?

“That...That’s not….That’s…” he blurts, strangled.

He feels like burying his head in the crisper drawer and never getting out of there. He suddenly understands where that urge comes from for ostriches. He coughs again to try and give himself some time, but this is Castiel, he’s not that easy to deter and when he wants an answer he’s ready to wait endlessly for it.

Dean takes a deep breath and finally gets his head out of the fridge, closing it and leaning back against it. He takes his time opening his beer, avoiding to look up at Cas. He doesn’t need to look up. He knows Cas is just standing there, waiting like he didn’t actually drop the biggest bomb of a question on Dean. For six years, Dean has been avoiding that kind of question, and Castiel probably doesn’t even realize the mess he just put them in.

Dean opens his mouth to answer. Closes it again.

He honestly has no idea how to answer this. His first reflex is to deflect, tell Cas that he misunderstood, that he said he liked him, but like a friend, not like....He’s not...It’s not like that.

He finds himself incapable of saying it though.

The truth is, what else can he say when he can barely admit to himself that he may indeed like Cas that way? That liking may not even be the right word for what he feels.

Or is it?

Sometimes he feels like they’ve been through so much together that the lines just started to blur along the way. Sometimes it feels like there are no lines anymore when it comes to Castiel. Other times, it feels like there is a giant wall that keeps Dean from actually saying or doing anything that might bring them closer.

Does he even want that?

Sometimes he wants Castiel in all the possible ways. Sometimes he wants to run away and never see him again because when Cas is here, it feels like...more. Everything feels so much more intense. Sometimes their arms will graze and Dean will feel his whole body shudder. When Cas is here, Dean can’t forget his presence. It’s like he’s tuned to him and his eyes can’t leave him for more than five freaking seconds without feeling the need to look at him again.

He’s never felt that way before. He can’t say he likes it. He’s used it, though. He learned to live with the little glimpses and the long stares he shares with Cas. But more than that? He’s not ready for more. He’s not sure he wants more. His body wants more. If he was being dramatic, he’d say that his soul craves more. But him? Just plain old Dean? He’s good, thanks. He just wants to share beers and watch stupid shows with his buddy. And if he gets the craving to put a hand in Cas’ (frankly impressive) bed hair every morning at breakfast, but never act on it for the rest of his life? Yeah, he can live with that. He’d rather live with frustration than fuck it up and lose his best friend forever.

“I like girls,” he says firmly, jaw grinding. The words actually hurt his throat coming out, scratch it so raw that he has to pass a hand on his skin to make sure he’s not bleeding.

Yet that’s the truth. He’s never felt like this for a guy before. Hell, he’s not even sure Cas entirely qualifies as a man. He’s...What did he call it? An eternal wasteland...no wavelength of something. Not a guy. Dean’s very much still heterosexual.

So, that’s not a lie.

Technically.

Dean is just stating facts. Cas can freely interpret them.

Except he looks disappointed all of a sudden. Not for long though, because Cas is good at hiding his sadness behind confusion and soon one of his eyebrows goes up in a slightly exaggerated way.

“That wasn’t my question. But, okay.” Despite the sarcastic tone, it sounds a little too final, a little too pointed. Maybe Dean isn’t actually okay with leaving free interpretation to his words after all.

“Listen, when I said that earlier, what I meant was..." he still has no idea how to finish this sentence.

“No. I get it. It was a joke. I’m still not very good with those,” Castiel adds with a self-deprecating laugh that sounds so fake that Dean internally cringes. It’s the worst thing Dean has ever heard.

“Cas…” He can’t help but close his eyes for a second, because he’s not sure he wants to see what is reflected on the other man’s face anymore. He wants to say that he’s sorry but knows that he shouldn't. He takes a breath and when he opens his eyes again, Castiel has bitten his lip so hard that a trickle of blood is running down his chin. “You hurt yourself again,” Dean states, without even realizing it.

No. That laugh. That laugh is the worst.

“I did,” Cas answers, wiping the blood. He looks at the blood on the back of his hand for a second. “You’re right, I should stop doing that.” He sucks on the side of his lip for a second before nodding his head. “Glad we’ve cleared that up. Goodnight, Dean," Cas says, his tone too neutral.

It feels like he’s running away, but Dean can’t find the words to stop him.

In the morning, there’s a dent in the form of a fist on the fridge’s door and Cas isn’t there anymore.

********

“What do you mean, he left?” Dean asks, trying not to raise his voice despite the panic beating in his chest.

“He said he had some research to do,” Sam explains calmly, eyes on his book while he sips on his coffee, obviously oblivious to Dean’s agitation.

“What research?”

His tone seems to alert Sam this time because he looks up, searching his brother’s face.

“Oh crap, what did you do?" Sam asks, suspicious and accusing, knowing his brother way too well.

Dean gapes for a second before scratching the back of his neck and turning toward the coffee maker. Surely, Castiel’s departure has nothing to do with their conversation. Cas is always leaving on some mysterious quest after all. This has nothing to do with what Dean did or didn’t do.

“Nothing,” he affirms. “Did he...did he happen to say when he would come back?”

“Dean…” Sam warns. “What happened?” he insists. “It wasn’t about the whole liking thing was it?” he asks with a grimace.

“No!” Dean cries, turning abruptly around.

Okay, maybe he answered that a little too fast. And a little too loud. Judging by Sam’s raised eyebrow, the younger man is not convinced.

“I just think it’s weird that he has to do research without us. We’re supposed to be a team. I thought his whole lone wolf thing was over. I mean, we take him on our cases, don’t we? Why doesn’t he share his?” Dean continues, acting offended.

Sam still doesn’t look convinced. He also looks done with Dean’s bullshit because he rolls his eyes and gets up, heading toward the library.

“Well, why don’t you call and ask him then?”

********

To Dean’s surprise, Cas actually comes back that very night. It suddenly feels like Dean can breathe again. He’s so blindsided by his relief that he can’t think about anything to say to him. They just pass each other in the hallway and before Dean can even say anything, Cas is inside his room, the door closed.

Okay, so maybe Cas is a little pissed after all. But at least he’s still here, right?

********

Cas is gone the next morning again, but this time Dean has hope that he’ll be back. Maybe he didn’t fuck up too much. Cas just needs some space. Dean can give him that.

********

After ten days that go pretty much the same, with Cas leaving in the morning and coming back straight to his room at night, Dean realizes that maybe giving him space is not the way. He tried it. He really did. It isn’t working.

“Where does he even go anyway?” Dean ruminates, taping his finger nervously on the map table.

The only answer he gets from Sam is a sigh.

Which is very rude, by the way.

********

That night, Dean can’t sleep. This situation has been going on for too long and is stressing him out. He’s been watching Sexy MD alone for two weeks now and it turns out that he got used to Cas’ incessant commentaries. He will not watch another episode without him. They need to go back to status quo.

So what if he’s an emotionally constipated asshole? He’s always been one! Cas liked him just fine before, so there’s no reason that he can’t like him again, that they can’t go back to how they were.

Yeah, what they need is something normal, something that always worked for bringing them together.

He spends the night searching for a case and is up at four in the morning, knocking on the other two men’s doors.

“We’ve got a case. We leave in 30, move your asses!” he announces once the two bedrooms doors are open and all the lights are on.

He ignores the grumbled insults that come his way and goes to prepare everyone breakfast sandwiches and a thermos of coffee.

********

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam asks later in the car, looking at the case file that Dean has printed. “This isn’t an emergency, it could have waited a few hours.” 

“People are dying, Sam!” Dean answers, fake dramatic.

Sam glares at him. They both know the case is bullshit. There haven’t been any victims in months and the monster – vampires, he thinks - has probably moved on by now. But whatever, he knows Sam will still be a good little soldier and do his work. Dean has 34 years of experience of hearing Sam complaining, so he can take it.

The important thing is that Cas is here. Sure, he’s dozing with his head on the window and hasn’t actually said a word yet. But he’s here. That matters.

Dean knows the ex-angel is grumpy in the morning, so he waits for them to stop at a diner for lunch before he tries to talk to him.

“I hope this won’t delay you in all that research you’ve been doing, Cas,” he says casually, while munching on his fries.

Castiel obviously didn’t have time to brush his hair that morning, because it is all over the place. Now that he’s sitting in front of him, Dean has to make a fist to stop himself from straightening it out. Who knew he was that fussy about hair. Because that’s obviously what it is. Just plain old fussiness. Yup.

“Not really,” Castiel answers with a shrug, not raising his eyes from the salad he ordered.

Dean grinds his jaw. That meal order is obviously an affront. Cas does sometimes order salad, that’s true. And when he does, he always orders the Greek salad with sheep cheese and olives. He generally takes a side order of fries with it. Dean suspected he does that to both appease Dean by eating something awesome, and Sam who can’t shut up about the importance of eating vegetables. He’s also a weirdo because he doesn’t actually even like olives and always ends up picking them out and putting them on Dean’s plate, which works for Dean since he loves olives, but still. He then generally puts his fries into the same plate as that weird Greek cheese Cas loves, and his salad which is just disgusting in Dean’s opinion. But see, that Greek salad goes with a whole damn ritual that he always does. Except today.

Today, Cas only ordered a Greek salad, no fries, and doesn’t seem inclined to give those delicious olives to Dean. In fact, he’s rolling them around his plate with his fork, like he’s taunting Dean with them. And again, no fries! That’s definitely hostile behavior.

“I hope you’re making good headway with that,” Dean answers in what he hopes is a disinterested tone.

Cas sends him a look and seems to hesitate for a moment before his next words.

“I am. The town librarian is actually a great help. Sam, I think you may know her. A charming brunette named Fiona?” Despite his question to Sam, Cas’ eyes are fixed on Dean. They don’t leave him as he slowly bites into an olive. The audacity!

“Huh. Yeah. I’ve talked to her once or twice," Sam answers, squirming in his seat.

“Oh, so that’s where you’ve been then. But-" Dean adds innocently, “doesn’t the library close at six? And yet we haven’t seen you at dinner for weeks.”

“I said I was with the librarian, not at the library," Cas points out with a smile that Dean suddenly hates. It reminds him of how Lucifer smiled while he was possessing Castiel. It doesn’t belong on his face. It irks Dean.

“Ouhhh, becoming a player, aren’t you? I’m proud of you, man," Dean encouraged. He goes as far as to raise his arm for a fist bump, trying to smile as big as his mouth can go. In his peripheral vision, he notices that Sam has been drinking from an empty glass for almost ten seconds.

“I assure you, Dean, that our relationship is not a game. It’s very serious," Castiel stated, ignoring the fist and wiping his mouth on his napkin before getting up. “In fact, I should call her to tell her I won’t meet her as agreed upon today. I’ll wait for you outside.”

Dean glares at the ex-angel’s back as he goes out of the diner.

“Can you believe it?" he asks Sam, bewildered.

“That you’re an idiot? Yeah, I can," Sam scoffs.

Dean gives him a deadpanned look. God, now he hopes those vampires are still around, because cutting some heads sound good right about now.

********

The vampires have obviously been gone for a long time, and they go back home with their metaphorical tail between their legs.

This has resolved absolutely nothing.

At least, Sam doesn’t comment on it.

********

They’ve been back for two weeks of barely seeing or talking to each other when Cas comes back earlier that is now usual. It coincides with the day Doctor Sexy MD is on, and he sits on the recliner next to Dean like he always used to. He doesn’t comment on the episode though, which is unusual, but Dean still counts it as a win. Or an olive branch. A white flag? Who the fuck knows, but at least Cas isn’t actively avoiding him for once.

Dean deflates when the episode ends and Cas turns toward him, regarding him with that serious face he always gets when he's about to broach sensitive subjects. The atmosphere is suddenly very heavy. Despite the resolute look on his face, Cas doesn’t seem to be able to talk.

Dean plants his nail in his thigh as he anxiously waits.

“As you must have noticed, I haven’t been very present in the bunker in the recent days," Cas recites. Did he write this down somewhere?

“Yeah. Huh. Fiona, right?" Dean acquiesces, playing absentmindedly with the label of the beer in his lap. The night was going so well. In silence, sure, but well.

“Not entirely.” What the fuck does that mean? “But yes," Cas affirms. “She actually offered me a job.”

“You already have a job," Dean immediately protests. What the fuck.

“Not a paying one," Cas explains.

“What the fuck do you need money for?”

“I’m not exactly as good at hunting or as useful as I used to be-" Cas continues, ignoring Dean’s interruption.

“Bullshit, you’re doing great. Sure, it’s different, but you’re getting better," Dean defends.

“Which would be relevant if you needed me, which you don’t.”

“Of course I-we need you”

Castiel bites his lip. It’s such a human thing to do that it always throws Dean for a loop. He wonders where Cas got that habit. From whom.

Most of his mannerisms, Cas got from Sam and him, not copying exactly, but adopting them unconsciously into his non-verbal communication set and transforming them slightly, making them his own. He definitely got the bitch face and pinched lips from Sam. Dean is probably to blame for the dramatic eye-rolls though. But this, this is new. For a second, Dean wonders if he got it from Fiona. He doesn’t like how it makes him feel.

“You don’t," Cas affirms. “Not all the time. You and Sam work well together and you’re usually more than enough. There are no big bads anymore," Cas explains. He definitely got some of his vocabulary from Dean, the hunter notes proudly. “Most hunts don’t require the three of us.”

Dean wants to protest, wants to keep him close, and with them. But there is a desperation in Cas’ eyes, a plea is his tone and Dean stops himself.

“That job. Is that what you want to do?" he asks sincerely.

Cas licks his lips, his eyes grazing Dean’s collar as he nods. It feels like a lie Dean can’t refuse.

“You’re a free man and an adult, Cas, you don’t have to ask my permission.” He didn’t mean it to sound so harsh but his bitterness at the situation bleeds into his tone.

“I can still help out when you need me. You know you can always count on me, Dean, that doesn’t have to change," Cas pleads. Dean takes a deep breath, he knows he has no right to be pissed or to try and stop him, but he can’t give him his blessing either. He just can’t. So he gives him a small nod to acknowledge that he knows he can count on Cas. “I was hoping I could still come to the bunker from time to time,” Cas adds with the same reassuring tone.

The slight relief that he felt dissipated as the floor opens up under Dean’s feet.

“We could still watch Doctor Sexy MD together. Maybe make it an official TV and pizza night?” Cas continues, oblivious to the way Dean’s face has fallen until he looks back up. His eyes widen as he realizes Dean’s pallor and he stops talking.

“What do you mean come to the bunker? Where the hell are you planning to live?” Dean asks reproachfully, voice strangled.

He can see Castiel flinch slightly before the ex-angel straightens his back and squares his shoulders, resolute and proud.

“I found an apartment in town.”

“What? How?” Dean exclaims, astounded.

“Fiona helped.” Of course, she did. “And-," Cas seems to ponder what he’s going to say, “-Sam gave me the money for the deposit and first month,” he admits, watching Dean carefully.

His reaction is a feeling of pure betrayal, but he hides it the best he can under a big smile and a clap on Cas’ shoulder. Cas is probably too smart to believe it, but he tries to smile back, not really succeeding.

“That’s great man. I mean, you’re always welcome to stay here though, even if you don't hunt, you know that, right?” the hunter asks, but continues without expecting an answer. “But if that’s what you want, I’m happy for you.” It’s weird how those words can be true and such a lie at the same time. Weird how the tremble in his voice contradicts the smile on his face.

Cas looks at him for a few moments, seems to search his eyes. Dean scratches his jaw, deciding to look anywhere else instead.

“I can’t wait to see that pad of yours. Wait, you’re not going to decorate it with Crosses and other Jesus’ crap, right?”

“I...actually have no idea how to decorate anything to be honest," Cas admits with a grimace. “I think Sam’s been working on a list of things I need. He told me I need an...Ekea?”

Acid burns in Dean’s throat at the reminder that Sam was in on this. For how long have they been planning that? How much have they talked about it behind Dean’s back?

“Ikea,” he corrects. “Not sure that’s your kind of deal, though. I always saw you as more of a flea market kind of guy.”

“There are markets where they sell fleas? Why? Is it necessary to have some at home? I always thought they were more of an inconvenience..." Cas reflects, looking very confused.

********

Cas moves out ten days later.

As expected, he really likes the flea markets and buys tons of miscellaneous ugly things that he doesn’t need. Why buying a figurine of a garden gnome playing guitar is an an obvious choice to him, but choosing a mattress and a bed frame at Ikea takes him two hours and twenty six minutes is a mystery to Dean, but he’s glad he was there to see it...even if those two hours and twenty six minutes seemed like the longest of his life.

To be honest, at first he tried to stay as far away as possible from the situation. He didn’t want to think about Cas moving out and starting his own life. He may have even spread chili on everything Sam ate or drank for a few days in retaliation for encouraging Cas to do it.

But Sam was obviously the worst adviser ever, and Dean draws the line at Castiel coming back from a four hour trip at Ikea with Sam, with only a purple salad spinner and a toilet plug to show for it.

He put them all in the car the next Sunday, and drove them to the closest flea market.

He was still hesitant at first, not sure he wanted to be there, to help when he was so against the idea in the first place. Sam tried to convince Castiel to buy some kind of suspended roundish loveseat crap that looked awfully uncomfortable and Dean was suddenly very happy that he was there to stop that disaster.

So, he started helping. Cas was his friend and he wanted to keep it that way. That’s what a friend is supposed to do. 

Maybe things would be okay. Maybe Cas leaving didn’t mean that he was going to disappear. He chose an apartment that was as close to the bunker as it could be, after all. Maybe this could be a new form of normal for them. He could help Castiel decorate his apartment, maybe teach him to cook a few simple meals and show him how to hang a frame. He could make a space for himself into Castiel’s life and things would be okay. Just different.

It was still a little tense between them, Castiel’s smiles weren’t as sincere and his stares didn’t linger as much, but it could be okay in time. It could.

Castiel’s new apartment was as obsolete as Dean expected it to be. It was just a small room where they could barely fit the huge sofa Dean made him buy, a small kitchenette, a barely decent bathroom, and a bedroom with a surprisingly big wardrobe that Castiel didn’t even have enough clothes to fill since he was still wearing the Winchester's hand me downs.

They spend two days scraping off the mold in some corners and painting the wall in the living room. Castiel chose a beige pretty similar to the color of his trenchcoat for the living room and it made Dean smile. He misses that old coat. With it being the Summer, it's too warm for Cas to wear it. Not that the view of Castiel in one of Dean's old tee shirts isn’t a treat. But now with the apartment and the new job and….it just emphasizes the fact that he isn’t the same old angel buddy as before.

But he's happy for Cas. He is. He doesn’t have the right to be anything else.

They actually catch a case while they're just starting on painting the bedroom. Cas promises them that it's okay, that he could finish it and that he's perfectly capable of mounting the bedframe alone. As he leaves, Dean is pretty sure that they will come back to a completely destroyed piece of furniture and a few bandages on his friend’s hands from the fight with that Ikea’s nightmare. They go anyway.

They come back three days later.

When Dean arrives with pizza and his best hammer, the room is finished. More than that, there are frames on the walls and brand news sheets on the bed.

“How did you..." Dean asks, eyebrows to his hairline and baffled.

Castiel scratches the back of his neck, another habits he took from Dean. It makes his t-shirt slightly raise up, revealing a patch of hair below his navel.

“Fiona helped," he admits, letting his arms fall down and shrugging.

Crazy how you can go from slightly too hot under the collar to entirely too cold with only two words.

"She took me to a place called Bed, Bath and Beyond. I had no idea that there were so many types of soap. How do you even choose? The internet wasn't very helpful and now it keeps suggesting me other types of soap.," Castiel babbles, eyes a little too round. "There are just so many, Dean," he laments. Dean can't tell if he's sincere or trying to make a mockery of himself to appease the tension. The hunter appreciates it anyway.

"Can't help you in that, I just always steal whatever Sam's buying," he jokes. "But don't ask him for advice or you'll never get out of this discussion. I once told him I used his conditioner to wash my hands and he nearly blew a fuse. I still have nightmares about the conversation that followed." He fakes shudders as they get settled in the living room with their meal.

While Dean is lounging on the sofa with his plate on his chest and his feet on the coffee-table, Cas is sitting straight on the other side of the sofa, with his plate on his lap and is eating his pizza with a fork and knife. What a weirdo.

“So how is the new job?" Dean asks later on while munching on some pizza.

“It’s great. Lebannon is actually the state’s center of foreign manuscripts, so I mostly spend my time translating old texts. Some may actually even be useful to hunting. I found an old reference to Dibbouk in one of the Hebrew text I’m working on.”

“Dabouk?”

“Dee-book, from its description I’d say it was some kind of demon that was referenced into Jewish mythology as far back as the nineteenth century.”

“Wow, careful there, talk like that to Sam and he might want to marry you," Dean jokes.

“I don’t believe he likes me that way," Cas reflects, missing the joke.

This hit a little too close and suddenly the tension is back. Dean is thankful when the advertising is over and Sexy MD is back on. He can’t concentrate on it anymore though.

“I’m glad you like your new job, Cas," he offers sincerely.

Castiel smiles a little, even if his eyes are on his lap rather than on Dean.

“How did you even get it anyway? You don’t even have a GED or anything, they can’t have just given you such an important job just because…” You’re boning the librarian. That’s what he was going to say. Good thing he managed to stop himself from putting his foot in his mouth for once.

After a couple seconds, Cas seems to understand that there is no end to that sentence.

“I actually have two masters degrees in linguistic and theological history. Officially." Cas adds with an exaggerated wink.

What a dork, Dean scoffs.

“Let me guess, it was delivered by the University of Sam Winchester?”

Castiel nods, laughing a little.

“I do speak every language ever spoken. And I think the millennia I spent as an angel at least equals the five years curriculum of the master degree of the University of Michigan when it comes to theological history. So...that’s barely a lie," Cas explains.

“If that helps you sleep at night and not feel like a fraud..." Dean teases.

“It does," Castiel declares with a smile, getting up and collecting their plates.

He goes to the kitchen to wash them while Dean contemplates the beer in his hand, trying to find the courage to ask what a normal friend would ask. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes with a grimace and…

“And how’s Fiona?”

His voice sounds a little strangled, a little too fast, a little too loud. The noise of the dishes being arranged into the cupboard stops abruptly. Castiel sighs loudly and Dean braces himself.

“You don’t need to do that," Cas says, barely audible.

Dean wants to say okay, to never ever approach that subject ever again because it feels awkward and like he’s bracing himself before someone pull all his teeth out without anesthetic, but he knows he won’t be able to ignore this woman all of his life. He’s not oblivious, and Sam is the least discreet person ever when it comes to these kind of things. He knows Sam has already met her, went for drinks with her and Cas. While he’s relieved that he didn’t have to endure that, it also hurts not to be there, not to even be invited. If he wants to keep Cas, he needs to accept Fiona too. He knows that’s important. Castiel is important.

He slaps his hands on his knees as he gets up from the couch, resolute. Castiel is standing in front of the kitchenette, top cupboard still open behind his head, nervously twisting a dish towel and nibbling his lips.

“I just...I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide things from me, Cas," the hunter confesses. “You’re my best friend," he adds sincerely, trying to catch Cas’s gazes. Their eyes lock and they stare at each other for a moment. It’s like a whole conversation goes on between them, one where Dean tries to be reassuring despite his own reluctance. “I’d be happy to meet her," Dean lies. It nearly sounds convincing.

"Thank you, Dean, that means a lot," Cas says sincerely. Their eyes stay locked a moment longer before suddenly Castiel starts avoiding his gaze and blushes and...wait, he knows that look.

“You'll probably meet her soon actually," Cas starts, bobbing nervously his head and blowing up his cheeks. “I mean..." he adds, swallowing audibly and looking every which way. Everywhere but at Dean, standing five feet in front of him. “I’m pretty sure she and Sam are dating, so..." he finishes with a grimace.

“They what now?" Dean asks, dumbfounded. What. The. Hell.

“I’ve been trying to ‘set them up’-" he explains with actual air quotes, “-for weeks now. they’re actually on their first date right now. Well, official date without me there.”

“He told me he had some research to do!" Dean exclaims, accusatory.

“Nope. Not research. A librarian...” Cas frowns at what he just said, inclining his head.

“Jesus," Dean sighs, passing his hands on his face as he paces. “I thought you two were...” The relief. It’s like he can breath again, like…

“I know," Cas admits, looking at the ground. When he raises his gaze again, it falls right into Dean’s, full of that clever glint that the hunter has definitely seen before.

“You son of a bitch," Dean says, gaping as he realizes what happened. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you? You led me to believe-”

“I’m sorry," Cas guiltily admits, blushing in embarrassment. “I don’t know why I-what I expect would happen. It was stupid." That poor dishtowel is getting twisted so badly that Castiel’s hands are getting blue from the lack of blood. Dean puts his hands on the angel's, gently making him release the towel before he even knows what he’s doing.

Or does he?

Castiel looks up at him, eyes wide.

“Well, I think it worked," Dean confesses with a little chuckle.

“It…did?” Cas asks nervously, eyes sweeping over Dean’s face. It barely has time to land on Dean’s lips before they’re on his.

As a first kiss goes, it’s probably not the best one. The need to kiss Castiel is a sudden one, and Dean wants to act on it before he has time to really think about it, which makes him maybe a little too brutal in his execution. Castiel is obviously not expecting it so their teeth clash loudly. Surprised, Castiel steps back, right into the still open cupboard’s door above his head. The pain makes him yelp and brusquely moves his head forward, his forehead slapping right into Dean’s eye socket. Suddenly, Dean is yelping too because ouch and he tries to back up but the damn towel is apparently now on the floor because his feet get caught in it. As soon as he feels himself falling backward, he grabs the first thing he can, which happens to be Cas’ shirt.

The next thing he knows, Dean’s on his ass on the floor with a throbbing eye and an ex-angel in his lap. He looks up, dazed at what just happened. Castiel has one hand massaging the back of his head where he bumped it, the other one on Dean’s shoulder as the hunter’s hands are still gripping the front of his shirt.

Castiel is looking back at him with the most horrified look Dean has ever seen.

And Dean is hunting monsters for a living.

He can’t help it, Dean starts to laugh.

Kissing Cas is probably the bravest thing he’s ever done – and again, he’s a monster hunter– and it was a total disaster. A huge clusterfuck.

Castiel makes a move to get up, but Dean holds him back, pulling on his shirt to make him stay right where he is.

“Let’s try again," Dean declares, still laughing a little. He can’t let this moment go. He knows himself. He knows Cas. He knows it might never come back.

Castiel wriggles a little on his lap, trying to find a more comfortable position.

“Dean, that does not sound like-”

“It’s perfect," he says, watching his own hands as they smooth the shirt on Cas’ chest before sliding to grab his hips. Castiel gasps, and it brings Dean’s attention to his mouth.

“I don’t understand, I thought..." Cas hesitates, his hands are on Dean’s shoulders to support himself, thumbs brushing the base of his neck and it makes the hunter shiver.

“I was wrong. And I’m an idiot," Dean assures, searching until he finally meets the other man’s gaze. Cas’s pupils are slightly dilated and his cheeks are pink, hair in disarray from the way he’d massaged the back of his head. He’s never looked more beautiful. This time, Dean can’t help it, he raises one of his hands to run it through the other man’s hair.

Castiel moans, just like he always did when Dean imagined it, closing his eyes for a second before he catches himself, blushing a little more, embarrassed.

Dean waits for Castiel’s eyes on his again. Crazy how they always seem to find their way right back.

“I do like you, Cas. More than you could ever know. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to be brave enough to admit it.”

The corner of Cas’ lips raises in a half-smile as his eyes soften, and Dean knows that he gets it. It wasn’t just admitting it to Castiel that was hard.

“Okay," Cas finally declares, raising his chin a little as his arms finally loop around Dean’s neck.

“Okay?”

“Let’s try again.”

“Okay." Dean smiles, relieved. Castiel raises an eyebrow at him and Dean realizes that he’s still not doing anything. “Huh, yeah, O-” he stops talking when two hands are suddenly on his cheeks, stabilizing his head as Castiel slowly brings his lips to his. Cas obviously learns from his mistakes. Dean really hopes he can too.

This kiss is definitely better than the first. But the next one is even better. And the next one. And the next one...

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the first I've written in years and it felt good. It's just a little story to get me back to it, but it felt good to write again. A longer story is coming soon. I've loved Destiel for so long, it feels weird that I've never written about it before. I have so many stories about them in my mind, I hope I'll be able to share more of them with you and that you'll enjoy them. 
> 
> Thank you to unerwaterattribute for helping me with this one. I hadn't written in english in a long time and really needed her help.


End file.
